The Laziest God Mortal Reincarnation

Two and a half years had passed since I returned from beastkin territory.

A lot had changed since then.

Unfortunately, most of those changes had been personally offensive.

"Again."

I was lying face-first on the training ground.

Actually, lying might have been too generous.

Collapsed.

I had collapsed face-first on the training ground.

My arms refused to move.

My legs had apparently decided they were no longer part of my body.

My back hurt.

My shoulders hurt.

My fingers hurt.

Somehow, even my hair hurt.

I wasn’t entirely sure that was physically possible, but Master Valerian had always possessed a remarkable talent for expanding the boundaries of suffering.

"Master."

"Get up."

"I can’t."

"You can. I’ve checked."

I moved one finger.

Barely.

"No."

Valerian stood several meters away with his arms folded.

He hadn’t even broken a sweat.

Naturally.

"You said you wanted to become stronger."

I immediately regretted several decisions I had made two and a half years ago.

"That was an emotionally vulnerable moment."

"You repeated it the next morning."

"I was still emotionally vulnerable."

"And the week after."

"Grief can last a long time."

His expression remained completely unchanged.

Cruel man.

I rolled onto my back and stared toward the evening sky.

The sun had almost completely disappeared beyond the border walls, leaving streaks of orange and purple across the horizon.

Beautiful.

Peaceful.

A perfect atmosphere for sleeping.

Instead, I was dying.

Again.

[You are not dying.]

’I wasn’t asking.’

[Your physical condition is stable.]

’Traitor.’

[I am simply correcting inaccurate information.]

I closed my eyes.

’When I die, I’m blaming both of you.’

[Noted.]

Valerian’s shadow fell across my face.

I reluctantly opened one eye.

"Training is finished."

For several seconds, I simply stared at him.

Then both eyes opened.

"...Finished?"

"Yes."

I almost cried.

Perhaps there was still goodness in the world.

I pushed myself onto my elbows.

Slowly.

Very slowly.

"You’re serious?"

"Yes."

"No additional barrier practice?"

"No."

"Mana control?"

"No."

"Healing theory?"

"No."

"Surprise endurance training disguised as a casual walk?"

His eyebrow twitched.

"No."

I narrowed my eyes.

This was suspicious.

Extremely suspicious.

Master Valerian hadn’t voluntarily ended training early since...

Actually...

I couldn’t remember the last time.

Two and a half years ago, after Father had agreed to let me remain at the border, Master had apparently interpreted the words keep ’permanent watch on him’ as permission to abandon every concept of mercy.

My training hadn’t doubled.

That would have been reasonable.

It had tripled.

Physical conditioning in the morning.

Healing work during the day.

Barrier training in the evening.

And more physical training at night.

And whenever Master decided my body needed a rest day, he replaced physical training with theory.

Apparently resting the muscles did not mean resting the brain.

I had complained.

Repeatedly.

At great length.

My complaints were ignored with impressive consistency.

There were dictators with more respect for individual freedom.

Still...

I had stayed.

That was probably the most disturbing part.

I could have complained to Father.

I could have demanded to return to the estate.

I could have hidden beneath my blankets and refused to move.

I had attempted the third option several times.

Izabella had ruined it.

Whenever Master Valerian wasn’t monitoring me himself, Izabella somehow appeared.

Eating?

Izabella.

Sleeping?

Izabella.

Trying to quietly sneak toward an empty supply tent because I had discovered it contained a surprisingly comfortable stack of folded blankets?

Izabella.

Once, I had escaped both of them for nearly forty minutes.

Forty glorious minutes.

I had found a quiet tree near the rear of the camp, climbed onto one of the thicker branches, positioned my pillow perfectly beneath my head, and fallen asleep.

When I woke up, Izabella was sitting on the branch beside me.

She had brought milk.

I still didn’t know how long she’d been there.

After that, I accepted that escape was impossible.

Even now, two guards stood outside my tent.

Officially, they were there to protect me.

That was a lie.

They were there to make sure I didn’t disappear again.

Father’s orders.

Apparently being kidnapped once was enough to lose the privilege of unsupervised existence.

I couldn’t even blame him.

Which made it considerably more annoying.

Before everything with the beastkin, I had been able to wander around the camp freely.

Well.

Mostly freely.

Master still knew where I was most of the time.

But now?

If I moved toward the western gate, someone noticed.

If I entered the forest, someone noticed.

If I spent too long inside a supply tent, someone noticed.

Once, I had taken a nap beneath a medical table after working through an unusually busy afternoon.

Izabella found me within eight minutes.

Eight.

I had started wondering whether Father had secretly placed a tracking artifact on me.

[He did not.]

’Are you sure?’

[Yes.]

’Then Izabella is terrifying.’

[That assessment is reasonable.]

I almost smiled.

Valerian turned away.

"Go rest."

I slowly climbed to my feet.

Every muscle protested.

"Master."

He looked back.

"Did you just tell me to rest voluntarily?"

"Yes."

"Are you sick?"

"No."

"Possessed?"

"No."

"Replaced by an illusion?"

"Alash."

"Just checking."

I stretched.

Immediately regretted it.

Pain travelled through my entire body.

I winced.

Tomorrow.

Right.

That explained everything.

Tonight was different.

Because tonight was my last night at the border.

At least for a while.

Tomorrow morning, I would finally leave this place and return to the Vortex estate.

Not permanently.

I had made absolutely certain of that.

Father wanted me home for an important family event.

My sister’s awakening ceremony.

Apparently even war wasn’t enough to excuse me from noble family obligations.

Tragic.

"Your carriage leaves shortly after sunrise," Valerian said.

"I know."

"You’ve packed?"

"Mostly."

He stopped walking.

Then looked back at me.

"Mostly?"

"My important things are packed."

"Define important."

"Pillows. Blankets. Potions. Books."

"Clothes?"

I hesitated.

"Those too."

His expression told me he didn’t believe me.

Unfair.

They were somewhere inside my storage ring.

Probably.

"If you forget something, I am not sending anyone back for it."

"I have everything."

"Good."

He started walking again.

I followed several steps behind him.

Mostly because my legs were no longer capable of keeping pace.

As we crossed the camp, soldiers occasionally greeted Master.

Some greeted me too.

That still felt strange.

When I’d first arrived here years ago, I had been the Duke’s sleepy son following a famous healer around.

Now most of the soldiers knew me.

Not because of Father.

Not even because of my SSS potential.

Because I had healed them.

Some more than once.

There were faces I recognized from shattered bones.

Deep wounds.

Burns.

One soldier near the eastern tents had somehow managed to get stabbed in almost the exact same place three separate times.

I had eventually told him that if he returned with the same wound a fourth time, I would charge him.

He had laughed.

I hadn’t been joking.

Working here had changed too.

The medical tents used to overflow constantly.

There were days when I barely had time to drink water before another wounded soldier appeared.

Now the beds were rarely full.

There were still injuries.

War had not disappeared.

But compared to before?

The difference was enormous.

After I returned from beastkin territory, the human army’s strategy slowly shifted.

At first, no one explained anything.

Orders simply changed.

Patrol routes became shorter.

Offensive units were withdrawn.

Fortifications along the border were strengthened.

Scouting parties were instructed not to pursue beastkin forces deep into the forest.

The army stopped trying to push forward.

Instead, it defended.

That alone reduced casualties.

It also helped that the beastkin’s attacks had become less aggressive after Garron’s death.

The Bear clan had suffered badly from losing its leader.

For months afterward, their attacks lacked coordination.

Some groups disappeared entirely.

The Tiger clan continued pushing.

Occasional attacks still came from other beastkin units.

But without humans advancing into their territory, the clashes became smaller.

Less frequent.

Less bloody.

Not peace.

Far from it.

A little better.

And in a war, apparently a little better was worth appreciating.

I still didn’t know how much of that change had anything to do with the three letters I’d brought back.

Cat.

Deer.

Rabbit.

Three sealed diplomatic messages.

Three accounts that could change how the kingdom understood the entire conflict.

Father had taken them.

Then proceeded to tell me absolutely nothing.

For two and a half years.

I had asked him several times through letters.

His answers were impressive in their ability to avoid the question.

’Focus on your training.’

’The matter is being handled.’

’There is nothing you need to concern yourself with.’

My personal favorite had been:

’Sleep.’

That one had almost made me proud.

I had also asked Master Valerian.

His answer had been equally useful.

"I don’t know."

"You don’t know?"

"No."

"Father didn’t tell you anything?"

"No."

"You never asked?"

"I’m not interested in politics."

I had stared at him for nearly a full minute.

Completely calm.

Completely innocent.

Completely suspicious.

I was certain he knew something.

Maybe not everything.

But something.

He simply refused to tell me.

Apparently secrecy was contagious among adults.

Still, the border’s changing strategy told me enough.

Someone important had listened.

Whether it was Father, the King, the other Dukes, or all of them together, the human army had stopped acting as though every beastkin was part of one united enemy.

That mattered.

Especially after what I had seen inside the hidden refuge.

People hiding from their own race.

People who wanted nothing to do with the war.

I hadn’t forgotten them either.

Mia.

Lyssairia.

Liora.

Elaris.

I wondered how they were doing.

I had received no messages.

Not that I expected any.

Sending letters across an active war border wasn’t exactly simple.

Especially when half the people involved were technically enemies.

By the time I reached my tent, darkness had settled over the camp.

The two guards outside straightened immediately when they saw me.

"Young Master."

I stopped.

Looked at the first guard.

Then the second.

"You both know I’m leaving tomorrow, right?"

"Yes, Young Master."

"Then tonight should technically count as my final night of freedom."

Neither answered.

I smiled.

"What if you two took a short walk?"

"No, Young Master."

"Very short."

"No."

"Five minutes."

"No."

"Two?"

"No."

I sighed.

Father had chosen them well.

I stepped inside.

The familiar scent of herbs, clean cloth, and old canvas welcomed me.

My bed sat against the far side.

My beautiful bed.

My loyal bed.

The one thing at the border that had never betrayed me.

I walked toward it.

Then simply fell forward.

My face landed directly into the pillow.

Perfect.

For several seconds, I remained completely still.

Then, "Al."

My body froze.

No.

Absolutely not.

I slowly lifted my head.

The tent flap opened.

Izabella stepped inside.

She carried a small tray.

I stared at her.

She stared at me.

Then her black eyes moved toward the bed.

"You’re already lying down?"

"I’ve had a difficult life."

"You finished training ten minutes ago."

"The last ten minutes were especially difficult."

She shook her head and placed the tray beside my bed.

Dinner.

Bread.

Meat.

Vegetables.

And milk.

I turned my face slightly toward the food.

Then back toward the pillow.

Eating required sitting up.

A serious design flaw.

Izabella crossed her arms.

"Eat."

"I can’t move."

"You walked here."

"Momentum."

"Al."

I sighed and forced myself upright.

Pain immediately spread through my back.

"Master tried to kill me today."

"He says that every time you exaggerate, he’ll add another lap to tomorrow’s training."

I froze.

Then slowly looked at her.

"There is no training tomorrow."

Izabella smiled.

"I know."

I narrowed my eyes.

"You’ve become cruel."

"I learned from your Master."

"That explains everything."

She sat in the chair beside my bed while I reluctantly began eating.

For a few minutes, neither of us spoke.

Then she looked around the tent.

"It’s going to feel strange without you here."

I stopped chewing.

"You’re finally admitting you’ll miss me?"

"I said it will feel strange."

"Close enough."

She rolled her eyes.

I smiled slightly.

Two and a half years.

Somehow, this miserable tent had become familiar.

The camp had become familiar.

Master’s training grounds.

The medical tents.

Izabella appearing whenever I tried to avoid responsibility.

Even the two guards outside.

Tomorrow, all of it would temporarily disappear.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

Izabella seemed to notice.

"You haven’t been home in a long time."

"Nearly five years."

"Are you nervous?"

"No."

The answer came immediately.

Too immediately.

Her eyebrow rose.

I sighed.

"...Maybe slightly."